The rhythms of work and talk, the grease and grime of this gas station, are here in such precision that Joseph Torra's locality becomes everyman's. With sentences that surge and swing like a John Coltrane tenor solo, Torra tells his tale of a working-class father and son. This is an extraordinary novel in the tradition of another working-class son of Massachusetts, Jack Kerouac.
Torra was raised in a working class, Italian-American home in Somerville, Massachusetts. He was editor of the literary journal "lift". He has been a lecturer in creative writing at the University of Massachusetts, Boston.
It's like watching a Robert Altman film about a clueless kid coming of age in the 1960s in his pop's gas station. His advisers about sex, music, and all things adult are bunch of ne'er-do-well mechanics, hot-rodders, and tow truck drivers, including his gambling, philandering, chiseling Italian immigrant father. If this is how young men learn the facts of life–and it rings true to me–then it's no wonder we're all so screwed up.
I've been wanting to read this book for a while, ever since I randomly came across it in the Pawtucket Public Library. It took me a while to find it again (it got transfered to another library for some reason and I couldn't remember the title other than it had "something to do with gas stations") but I'm glad I did.
The style is stream-of-conscious, like a more concrete Subterraneans and deals with a lot of the same subject matter of a Kerouac story, namely New England blue collars and immigrants and the mechanics of man talk life and work. Taking place in the late 60's, it's a novel (memoir?) of a childhood both charming and grim, full of lowlifes and drunks and chicks and hot summer concrete and oil leaks and snow and pavement. The stream-of-consciousness may seem difficult but it's actually a breeze to read, and makes the somewhat simple-minded voice of the boy narrator seem very genuine.
Sort of like a dirtier Car Talk, this book oozes a no-bullshit sentimentality that's a real pleasure to read. Sometimes it was difficult getting all the characters straight, but I think I picked up a few things about cars so it all evens out. I'm eager to read more stuff by this guy.
Casual readers may be daunted at first by the narrative style of this short, 128 page novel, perhaps better characterized as a novella. It is a stream of consciousness narrative, only lightly punctuated, but broken up into easily digested sections only a page or two long. The narrator is an adolescent boy who spends much of his time doing a man’s work at his Italian immigrant father’s gas station and auto repair garage.
Once you get into the rhythm of the author’s rhetorical style it becomes a rich and pleasant read, as you absorb the sensory experience of being in a place where men work hard and get their hands dirty every day. A young boy comes of age a bit more with each gallon of gas he pumps and every engine rebuild and muffler replacement he works on.
Torra paints a gritty, vivid portrait of this blue collar life, peopled with colorful characters in the town north of Boston where the novel is set in the 1960s. Like other experimental novelists before him, including Faulkner, Joyce, and his fellow Bay State native Jack Kerouac, the author uses his literary style to make the quotidian details of the environment into a kind of celebratory poetry of ordinary people. While the characters and setting are something most of us who have not been in that life have probably only thought about in passing, Torra’s keen sense of observation and abundance of bold detail render them memorably.
Wonderful book about his teen years working at the gas station of his Italian immigrant father. Coming of age tale, stream of consciousness writing, beautiful book by Torra, who is primarily a poet.
First read this enjoyable coming of age novel when it was first published back in '99. Picked it up again on a whim 25 years later and I think I may have enjoyed it just a little bit more second time around.